


Where the Heart Is

by Lady_Nara (orphan_account)



Category: Junjou Romantica
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 22:31:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3094016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Lady_Nara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hiroki kept guard over a secret place. Only two people ever managed to find it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Heart Is

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Asphodel's Nowaki/Hiroki prompt. Thanks for the inspiration!

Hiroki had always liked living alone. He could keep the strange hours of an academic and organize his space his own way. There was no one to complain if he piled his books to the ceiling. There was no one to irritate him with stupid questions and meaningless trivialities when he came home after a long day of dealing with lazy students and obnoxious bosses.

Most importantly, there was no one to ridicule him in those rare moments when he acted less like the cool and collected adult he had always strived to be. He no longer had the annoying propensity for tears that he'd detested as a child, but there were still times when he could not restrain an emotional response. A real man should never let himself be seen to lose control; he had always believed so.

That was why, even as a child, he'd had a secret hideout; a home away from home. There with only the blue-white canopy of the sky held up by the trees to witness, he could cry and scream and rage if he wanted. Or, likewise, he could just sit and be meaninglessly happy, or imagine that the green tunnel around him was the entrance to a magical world- like Alice in that book he'd read.

It was only with great reluctance that he accepted an intruder into his sacred space.

"The sky here's kind of floating among all the trees, and the green and blue and white looked really pretty together," said the strange boy who never changed expressions or varied his tone.

 _I didn't think anyone else would notice it_ , Hiroki thought in surprise, warily appraising the alien being who could barge his way into the heart of this fortress of solitude with one word: "please." Completely, totally, shamelessly unfair.

What Hiroki had thought he'd have to put up with for a day turned into a week, a month, two months, and so on. Akihiko was so quiet that being with him was almost like being alone. It was also strangely satisfying to rant and rage with Akihiko as audience. Ever-placid Akihiko, who only watched him with solemn eyes, and never laughed or scolded him for being childish. Occasionally, when he'd gotten himself too worked up, Akihiko always knew how to defuse him, whether by a word, a touch, or a…a kiss. Akihiko, who not only shared his love for magic and mystery, but actually opened up new worlds for him with every stroke of his pen.

It was only when he'd looked up one day after Akihiko had tackled him, with the other boy so unaccountably close, and seen the way that amid the halo of green foliage, Akihiko's blue eyes were borne upon his white, white skin; the way that shocks of pale hair wisped over those same calm eyes-

It was only then that he'd begun to suspect how important Akihiko had become to him.

It wasn't strange that the day Hiroki realized that he would never be as important to Akihiko, he found himself in a park as though his feet had been directed by an outside force. Even though he knew that it had been a beautiful, sunny day, with children playing and dogs barking in the most asinine way, Hiroki remembered the weather as gloomy and forbidding. That is, until a rocket had fallen from the sky directly in front of him, nearly giving him a heart attack.

His first view of Nowaki had been of a giant moving through the trees, head in the clouds. Then the man's mild eyes had found him and shot wide like the gape of a trap.

Once was quite enough to expect any man as self-contained as Hiroki to open his heart and his space to another. It was a testament to Hiroki's supreme patience, and Nowaki's relentless lobbying, that the latter had finally been allowed to move in, six years into their relationship. It had taken quite a lot of internal preparation for Hiroki to resign himself to the loss of his solitude, and he still couldn't deny that the first night he'd come home from a bad day and was met by a cheery "how was your day, Hiro-san?" he'd wondered what the hell he'd been thinking.

Today was another one of those days.

"Hiro-san? Hiro-san?"

Footsteps. The creak of a door.

An in-drawn breath.

"Hiro-san. What's wrong?"

Silence.

"Did something happen? Are you in pain somewhere?"

Hiroki ignored him, slumped over the desk with his head in his hands in an attitude of utter despair.

 _I'm fighting a lonely battle_ , he wanted to tell him. _You wouldn't understand._

But if he wouldn't understand, then there was no reason to say anything to him at all. So Hiroki pressed his lips together, tried vainly to even out his traitorous breathing, and said nothing.

"Please, Hiro-san!"

"…"

The desk chair creaked as Hiroki leaned back wearily, keeping his back to Nowaki.

"Nothing. I'm fine. I'm just a little tired, that's all. Please leave me alone."

A pause, and footsteps moved away. Hiroki dared to raise his face, making jerky, furious swipes at the moisture cooling on his hot cheeks. Once a person started to cry, why was it so damned hard to _stop_?

Then he realized that Nowaki had only left temporarily and he swiveled around again, rubbing at his aching temples and grinding his teeth. Usually Nowaki would respect his desire for privacy. Yet today, of all days, he seemed to have decided that Hiroki shouldn't be left alone.

_Idiot. Moron._

Nowaki stepped up just close enough to set something gently on the edge of Hiroki's desk, before moving back a few paces and taking up a kneeling posture on the floor.

_What are you, my vassal? Then listen to your lord and get lost already!_

Hiroki inhaled a warm, pleasing scent and opened his eyes to find a mug of steaming tea at his elbow.

"Sometimes," Nowaki said quietly, "I find that doing something for my body helps to clear my mind."

Hiroki could think of a few choice words to say to this presumption, but he bit them back and stared at the tea through blurry, narrowed eyes. He picked up the cup and blew over it carefully before sipping. It was the perfect temperature, hot enough to send a cascade of warmth bubbling through his core but not enough to burn his tongue. He felt the knot in his chest loosen and his breathing settle, at last. Even the edge of his migraine faded.

_Damn brat._

"Tell me what's wrong," Nowaki commanded softly.

Hiroki folded his arms tightly and composed his face for the wall's benefit.

"It's…my thesis."

"Your thesis? But you've already finished your schooling…"

"Not for a degree. For a book."

"A…book?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

The note of surprise in Nowaki's voice shouldn't bother him. After all, he'd only done papers and lectures up to this point, outside of the usual publication associated with graduate theses.

Hiroki hesitated, unsure of how to express the jumble of thoughts in his head. Eventually he blurted, "It's all a mess!"

"What is?"

"I told you, my thesis! I chose such a difficult topic that I'm having trouble even gathering my sources. I spent all last week trying to track down some stupid old has-been of a scholar, and most of this week convincing him to give an interview that'll force me to travel across the country. I even had to order one book from America and it hasn't arrived yet. I can't read English, but I don't have a choice. It's a rare book and there aren't any Japanese translations available. I'll just have to force Akihiko to translate the parts I need."

"Usami-san?"

"Oh, yes, you wouldn't know. Akihiko grew up in England."

"I…did go to school in America for a while. I could…"

"Yes, yes, but you're far from fluent. And even if you were, you've never really gotten _literature_. You don't have the poetic sensibility to translate this stuff properly."

"But Usami-san does."

"Well, he is a writer," Hiroki said, abruptly wishing he could see Nowaki's expression.

"I see. Then, if you've got that worked out," Nowaki began, in a markedly more distant tone.

"It isn't just that!" Hiroki exploded, spinning around to slam a fist on the desk. The teacup rattled on its saucer in dramatic accompaniment.

"The thesis I'm trying to put forward is completely at odds with the prevailing theories. It's sure to be challenged, so I have to have an airtight argument. But the subject is so broad that it's difficult to get through everything I need to in the time I've allotted, and even more impossible to condense all the relevant material into a readable book. If I succeed, this could make my reputation, but if this in any way goes badly, the reputation of my University could suffer. You'd better believe the head of the literature department knows it, too. He's already started to distance himself from me, arranging it so that he can claim the school never supported the project, even while trying to keep a friendly relationship in case things go well."

Hiroki snorted in disgust.

"To top it off, I have even less time than usual because a professor recently quit suddenly, and they dumped more classes on Miyagi and I. _Freshmen_ classes," Hiroki growled, as though this was adding insult to injury.

"So while I'm risking my career to work on this, I have to get pestered by even more blockheaded students than usual, do most of that lazy bum Miyagi's work on top of my own, and somehow squeeze in time for…for other important things."

Hiroki shifted his gaze to the floor as he said this, rubbing at his neck, sore from craning over a desk for hours at a time. He gave a final indignant sniff, reminded.

"Not to mention, I've been sick with this stupid low-level cold for nearly a month now, and it shows no signs of going away. Right when I need energy, I'm sucked dry."

Hiroki huffed and then the silence set in. He waited for Nowaki to say something kind and condescending. _Or maybe_ , he thought with an ache, _Nowaki will tell me not to load impossible tasks on myself. I've said the same thing often enough to him._

" _You ever heard the expression, 'digging your own grave?'"_ he heard a voice murmur from the distant past.

" _Don't use phrases I don't know,"_ came the faint reply.

"You're writing a book?"

"Yes! That's what I've been talking about all along! Listen when other people are talking to you!" Hiroki flared, waving an arm furiously and nearly knocking over his tea. He made the mistake of locking eyes with Nowaki and found it impossible to break away.

"I'm sorry, it's just…you're so amazing, Hiro-san. A real book…and one that's saying something no one's ever said before?"

Hiroki nodded mutely. Nowaki broke into a smile. His eyes, which had been very wide, crinkled almost shut.

"As expected from you, Hiro-san."

"You're not listening," Hiroki protested weakly.

"I am," Nowaki corrected firmly. "You're upset because of the huge task you've set for yourself, even with all the distractions you have to handle every day. Right?"

"Well, I…in a manner of speaking."

Nowaki stood up and came over to the desk, picking up the green cup and saucer and cradling them to his chest, as he probably wanted to reach out and do with Hiroki. He wisely refrained, and Hiroki was left feeling alternately relieved and disappointed, though he would only have fought the gesture if the man had tried, probably spilling tea all over the white lab coat Nowaki had forgotten to remove. Nowaki set his other hand on the desk and took shameless advantage of his height and their positions to loom over Hiroki and send him tumbling into sunlit, depthless blue eyes.

"Hiro-san, ever since I've known you, you've been accomplishing great things. Step by step, you've never ceased moving steadily forward to conquer your goals."

Nowaki sighed and his smile took on a slightly melancholic tilt.

"It makes catching up with you very difficult."

"I told you not to worry about that," Hiroki muttered, half-heartedly trying to distract him from the embarrassing turn this conversation had taken.

Nowaki refused to be sidetracked.

"It's perfectly natural that every once in a while you'd be amazed by what you're doing, too. Everyone else, is. But, you know, you've been doing incredible things all along. Just keep moving forward, as you always do, and you will conquer this goal, too. I am certain of it."

Heat rose to Hiroki's face, as it always did when Nowaki praised him. Honestly, it felt like egomania just to keep the man around, what with his ridiculous tendency to gush over the slightest thing. Anyway, what did all this amount to other than the sort of pep talk one might give to a gradeschooler? "Keep at it"? "Do your best"? "You can do it"?

That was what Nowaki always did. He took the trite and made it fresh with meaning by sheer sincerity.

Still, an adult shouldn't need this kind of encouragement. Receiving it from a man four years his junior only made it more humiliating.

Watching the emotions play across Hiroki's face, Nowaki's smile was understanding.

"Well, it's my night to cook and I've let it get so late," he checked his watch. "You must be starved, working so hard. I'll leave you to it, then. I'll call you when dinner is ready."

He retreated, leaving Hiroki in the privacy of his study room. Hiroki stared at the door and thought of secret gardens and falling through green tunnels into the sky.

Then he stood, opened the door, and went home.


End file.
